


Broken

by WordsmithDee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brotp, Friendship, Gen, Spoilers, post Cap 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithDee/pseuds/WordsmithDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting Peggy brings Steve more than just memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post Captain America 2 fic. It contains some spoilers, so if you haven't seen the movie, probably should read this. Thanks to Brii (buti-knew-him on tumblr) for inspiring this fic.

Steve brushed the dirt from the headstone, staring down at the name etched deep in the marble. Peggy Carter. It had become a habit, not really a tradition not yet, to visit her several times a year. On the anniversary of when they met, when Bucky 'died', when he died, when she died. Four times a year he visited, bringing fresh flowers. It was always just him and those few moments of silence and solitude were treasured as he remembered the good old days.

Today was different though. Something, and he didn’t know what, was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He glanced around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that sense of being watched was there and it made his muscles tense under his leather jacket. Turning slowly, bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, Steve took in every inch of the cemetery in his view.

It was as he was turning back to the headstone that he saw the shadow separate from the large oak tree and start towards him. One hand slid under his jacket, grabbing the gun tucked into his waistband as the figure came closer and he was able to make out the very familiar features. The flowers fell to the ground as Bucky stumbled to a halt several feet away.

Steve stared at the man who had been his best friend. So much had changed between them, from the moment Bucky fell from the train. It didn’t seem like all that long ago to Steve that he watched Bucky die. Even less than when he discovered Bucky was alive and not the man he used to be. Had it only been two years since he last saw Bucky, despite his many efforts to find the man they called The Winter Soldier? That Bucky had been trying to kill him and had been very serious in his efforts, probably would have succeeded if that very same man hadn’t saved him.

He had spent many nights lying awake trying to figure out why Bucky had saved him. There had been no indication when Bucky was ramming his fist into Steve’s face that the other man even remembered who Steve was. So why save him? Had some memory slipped in? Or had it been something else that prompted the world’s best assassin to save his life? More than once Steve wished he knew where Bucky was so he could ask. More than once Steve said a prayer, requesting that he get his best friend back.

Now it was like looking into some stranger’s face. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over him. It was like being transported back to the street, when he found out Bucky was the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier was more muscled than the Bucky he knew, harder, darker, deadlier. It had been the eyes, as cold and vicious as they had been, that told Steve who he was facing two years ago. Now? Another transformation had taken place.

He looked as fit as before, but that was just an illusion. Before, Steve remembered with clarity, there was unspoken strength that radiated from him. Now Bucky’s steps were hesitate and he carried himself like a man who was broken. The metal arm was hanging limp at his side, no longer gleaming but dirty with rust. Dark brown hair hung like greasy strings around hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. But it was still the eyes that drew Steve in. There may have been dark circles under them, but they were still Bucky’s eyes, pale blue and marred with confusion.

Steve didn’t loosen his grip on the gun, not even when Bucky looked at him and stuttered, “Steve…is that really you?”

“Bucky?” Steve asked, still alert in case this was a trap, though he doubted it because of Bucky’s condition. With the way Bucky looked, Steve could snap him in two without a thought.

Bucky hesitated, caught off guard by the wariness in Steve’s voice. His mind clamored, voices rising over each other. Crying out for his friend, demanding his death, blood thirsty and desperate, all mixing together into one riotous sound that made his head ache. It was all too much for him and his knees buckled.

“Steve, I don’t…what…I can’t…” Bucky trailed off his voice breaking.

Maybe it was a trap, but at the moment, seeing the vulnerability of his best friend, Steve didn’t care. There was no way he was going to stand by and leave Bucky alone, not now, not ever.

He stepped forward, hands reaching out to grab Bucky’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Bucky, I got you.”

The other man slumped against Steve, all the strength draining out of him. He remembered situations like this, in the past, only then it had been Steve leaning on him. Now the situation was reversed and he didn’t know why. “I don’t understand what’s happened to me, Steve.”

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to word his fear but the way his voice trembled as he spoke told Steve all he needed to know. Steve sighed, because he didn’t understand either, and tightened his grip on his friend. “I know but it’s okay. I’ll help you now.”

He didn’t know how or why but the only thing that really mattered right now was that he had his friend back. For the moment that was all that mattered.

 


End file.
